


the world stops

by followsrabbit



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followsrabbit/pseuds/followsrabbit
Summary: This was exactly why William hadn't wanted Noora to meet his psychopath of an older brother.(An alternate ending to 2x08 in which William comes home early.)





	the world stops

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I rewatched 2x08 last night and had to try writing this? Very self-indulgent.

William had a headache, a lost phone, and an insane taxi bill by the time he climbed the stairs to his penthouse. Muffled music greeted him, pulsing straight through the door. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. _Of course_. Of course Nikko would choose tonight to throw a party in his apartment.

(Fine. Their apartment. But Nikko had an apartment of his own in Stockholm where he could do anything he liked without messing with William’s life. With his relationship with Noora. With his multiple-stab-wound-level headache. _Fuck_.)

He stood there for a moment longer, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. Best to prepare himself for all the shit Nikko was about to say—about William taking a taxi from Lillehammer to Oslo when he should have been _enjoying his time as a russ_ , about _why_ William could possibly be so distracted. Smirking as he said it too, always, like he knew every damn thing in the universe.

(But not Noora. William wouldn’t let his psychopath of an older brother know Noora, not ever. Bad enough that he knew _about_ Noora.)

 _Noora_.

Muscle memory sent William’s hand into his pocket. He grabbed for his phone, for some sign of a message from her, only to slump when he remembered that it had disappeared somewhere on the bus. Hence the taxi, in place of an Uber. Hence the headache that had finally pushed him into leaving his own bus party. Hence his inability to know whether Noora was calling or texting him. Whether she felt as tired of all the space between them as he did.

If Chris hadn’t bought the extent of William’s feelings for her before, he did now. It might have taken the secondhand-experience of William’s dark, sulking misery over the last week for Chris to realize that Noora wasn’t just a chase and wasn't going anywhere. That she was going to be a permanent fucking fixture in his life—if she ever called.

Twisting the door open, finally, a hard breath in his lungs, William took in the empty glasses and buzzed chatter. He had just shaken his head, resigned himself to the fact that his temples weren’t going to stop aching anytime soon, and stepped into the living room, when the world halted. He halted too. Not because of the couple hooking up against the wall or the strangers doing shots in the corner. All that fit the party well enough.

Noora sitting on his couch, her eyes half-closed, her head lulling down towards one shoulder, his brother’s hand on her knee and his mouth by her ear—that didn’t.

When the world started moving again, William felt like someone had pressed a fast-forward button on his feet. One second he was by the threshold, the next he was at the couch, kneeling in front of Noora, gritting out “What the fuck, Nikko?”

“William!” Nikko grinned and clapped a palm—the same one that had just touched Noora’s thigh—on his tense shoulder. “You’re back early. We thought you’d be staying out tonight.”

 _We thought_.

William’s eyes clenched shut for one harsh inhale, putting everything into focus. He could see it—Noora coming by to look for him after he didn't answer his phone, Nikko opening the door, Nikko spinning some bullshit story about how he was off spending the night with another girl and then putting a drink in her hand.

“What the fuck, Nikko,” he repeated. “She can barely sit up.”

If he looked at his brother for another half-a-second, he was going to punch him. So William scanned Noora instead, even as Nikko started in how _oh, she’s fine_ and _it’s a party, William_ and _we were having a good time._

Noora blinked at him, her green eyes glazed with whatever alcohol Nikko had given her. William pushed the hair out of her face and ran the pad of his thumb along her temple.

“William,” she said finally, softly, slowly. “You’re here?”

William nodded and cupped the other side of her face to keep her eyes on his. To get a better grip on her, because she was _here_ , she'd come back. “It’s my apartment.” He found a smile for her. “Where else would I be?” Because he could have still been miles and hours away, missing her in fucking Lillehammer, but somehow wasn’t.

When Noora opened her mouth again, a sigh slipped out. “Nikko said…” she paused, leaning into his palm-lines. “I thought you’d found someone else. Someone who doesn’t care whether you smash bottles on people’s heads and—and will have sex with you.” Her arms encircled his shoulders a breath later, hugging him as close as she could. “But you’re _here_.”

He hugged her right back, burying his face into her neck and her hair. “No girls,” he murmured. “Just a lame party and a lost phone.” William inhaled her, then tensed another notch when he smelled the tequila on her exhale.

“You lost your phone?” Noora eased back to wrinkle her forehead at him. “But Nikko said that you texted him.”

“Is that what I said?”

William turned his head. There was Nikko, grinning at them, undisturbed by the fact that he’d been caught, as if this were all nothing more than a grand game of poker.

The glare that covered William’s face when he met Nikko’s eyes felt sharp enough, hard enough to do bodily harm. “You need to leave.”

Nikko's teeth gleamed white. "Excuse me?"

William ground his teeth. “I mean it. If I wake up and you’re here, I'll kill you, Nikko. Brother or not.” And since he did mean it, since he really might kill him if he stayed there for a minute longer, since Noora felt so limp against him and her arms so loose around him, William adjusted his own arms so that he could pick her up when he stood. Walking straight to his room, he secured one elbow beneath her legs and the other at her back, until he had her tucked against his chest.

(Proof that she had to be incredibly drunk. Noora would never let him carry her through a roomful of people otherwise, with only a faint _what are you doing?_ in protest.)

He didn’t want to let go of her, even after he kicked his bedroom door shut behind them, but forced himself to set Noora down on his comforter, if only so he could hunt for a bottle of water. 

When he turned back to hand her the plastic bottle he'd found in his school bag, Noora was sitting on the edge of his mattress, stumbling through the process of unbuttoning her striped shirt. “Noora.” Somehow, she reached the last button in a matter of seconds, compromised motor skills notwithstanding. William might have been impressed by that if his heart weren’t still beating through his chest, screaming about how easily he could have opted not to come home tonight. How easily Noora could still be wavering on that couch with his brother’s hand on her knee. “What are you doing?”

“Undressing?” she said, her voice wobbly enough that it sounded like a question. (It really wasn’t at this point. She already had her jeans tugged past her ankles.)

William faced the wall when he saw her start with the clasp of her bra, and let his head slump back for a beat. _Jesus_.

“No,” Noora said once she saw him picking through his shirts. “No clothes.”

William’s head throbbed. “When you’re sober, you can strip as much as you want. I’ll encourage it. Now”—he looked up at the ceiling and tossed one of his white t-shirts to her—“you’re drunk.”

“But you said…” Noora sounded very serious as she tripped through the words. “You said that I’d be naked in your bed in two weeks.” He heard the sheets rustle.

 _Fucking hell_.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, so settled for running a hand over his face. “Yes. And you said it wasn’t going to happen.”

Finally, he deemed it safe to glance at her. There she was, her shoulders bare, his white sheets tucked around her chest. The shape of her curled up beneath the linens. “I wanted it to be true,” she said, nestling her head into his pillow. “Even though I shouldn’t.” His t-shirt remained crumpled at the foot of the bed. The water bottle, at least, was near empty on his bedside table now.

William lay down beside her on the bed, above the covers, on his side, facing her. “Shouldn’t?”

Noora shook her head, but didn’t protest when William threaded his fingers through the ends of her short hair. “Shouldn’t,” she affirmed, sighed. “I shouldn’t be this in love with you either.”

William’s heart, breath, headache—they all stopped. He wanted to kiss her. Every single inch of her. He wanted to forget the psychopath in his living room, the alcohol in Noora's breath.

He traced his fingertips along her cheek instead, the one that hadn’t blurred into his pillow. “That’s convenient, actually.” He molded his lips to her forehead. “Because I’m in love you.” So fucking in love with her. Starved for her. Miserable without her. He could say all of that later.

Noora lost her hands in his hair and pulled his face down to hers for a slow, soft kiss. Then she fell back, mussing her hair against the pillowcase all over again. “Your brother doesn’t think so,” she mumbled.

 _There_ was his headache. “Nikko wouldn’t have done all this if he didn’t think so.” Fucked with her, with them, like this if he didn't know how much William would care.

Noora’s eyelids fluttered. “He said horrible things about you.”

William could only imagine. “Forget about him, Noora. Sleep for now.”

She nodded into his palm. Nodded off. He kept stroking her light hair and pale skin as the party’s music knocked and knocked on his door.

They would sort out whatever Nikko had said about him, whatever she had thought about it, tomorrow. Now—

Still resting on top of his sheets, William let his eyes whisper closed.

For now, they would just lie here.


End file.
